User blog:JerekShay'll/Young Exodus
He was leaving. Jonathan Cordero was tired of everything happening in his life. The stress from his home, and school. He was sick of it. School was a mess, he was two if not three years behind in school, and he was going to graduate when he was twenty years old by the looks of it. His home life was horrible, his father was a jerk, and they lived rather poorly, in a small three bedroom home for five, considering neither of his parents worked. His father “couldn’t find work” due to the fact that he was overweight and had several issues with his body. He always was in an irritable mood, and the slightest thing wrong would make him explode like an angry volcano. When they argued, he wouldn’t let him speak at all. His mother would try to diffuse the situation, and that usually meant Jonathan had to shut his mouth and swallow his words, keeping what for years needed to come out locked inside him like a vault. He always said, “Use common sense” or “think before you do something”. So, Jonathan had thought before doing something, he had thought a lot about doing something. He was tired of this bastard being in his life constantly and never having a good thing to say. That’s why he was packing right now. He needed to leave before he did something drastic. Kill his father. “Toothbrush, check, two sets of blankets, check, pocketknife, check, pillows, check, journal, check, Bible, check, wallet, check, hat, check, two weeks’ worth of clothing, check, water, check, box of favorite things, check, flashlight, check, candles, check, multipurpose tool, check, laptop, check.” He said, looking at all the items on his bed. He was more or less ready. He took his things, and pushed them inside his backpack, making sure to be very quiet. It was 3:30 in the morning, and he didn’t want anyone to foil his plan. He left a note on his bed, stating what he was leaving and he told his father several things about where he could put his “common sense” at. He left it on the bed, and walked out into the laundry room next to his bed. He walked through pushing the clothes aside that were grabbing at his feet, as though they wanted him to stay. But no, he’d had enough of this. He was tired of feeling like a straw. Plastic as though he wasn’t real, he felt bendable, and hollow. He hefted the backpack on to his back, and decided to take a couple tools from the tool chest next to him. He took a screwdriver, a set of wire cutters, pliers, and a small set of bolt cutters, and put them in his backpack. He opened the door in front, and let the darkness hide him. He made sure to have turned off the motion detector lights outside and slowly walked to through the backyard. He turned to the side of the house, making sure no one was there, and took his bike and hoped aboard. He knew he’d be homeless; and helpless for a long time. But he didn’t think it’d matter, as long as he was away from that hellhole that was called a home, he was fine. He looked at his home one last time before he got on, and rode off. Category:Blog posts